Midnight Sun Bridge
by AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed
Summary: These chapters provide a bridge between the draft chapters of Midnight Sun published on Stephenie Meyer's website, and Meadow of the Midnight Sun, a fanfiction continuation of the story, wonderfully written by HeartOfDarkess.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I discovered the Twilight series recently, and only read Midnight Sun off Stephenie Meyer's website last month. I was sad that it just stopped. Edward's POV is so compelling. Then I was devastated when I did a bit of research and discovered that Ms. Meyer appears to have no desire to finish the project now. Fortunately, I discovered Meadow of the Midnight Sun, a well written and true-to-canon fanfiction piece by HeartOfDarkess, which did a very nice job satisfying that void. The only problem was a gap between the two works that left me wondering Edward's view of those days. These few chapters will attempt to explore those days, and serve as a bridge between the two works. The intent is to be true to canon. Also, this is my first attempt at fiction, fanfiction, or uploading anything to this site. Please be patient.**

**Thanks to HeartOfDarkess for her encouragement to write this, and for serving as an unofficial beta. I've tweaked it some since you looked at the chapter; I hope I didn't mess it up. Stephenie Meyer owns these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**This chapter starts directly after the end of Stephenie Meyer's last draft chapter, . There is no introduction; I just start right up. If it's been a while since you read Midnight Sun, you might want to start there.**

**A/N Addenda: I wrote the original version of this chapter when I was away from home, and therefore, my copy of Twilight. When I came home and got ready to write the next chapters, I discovered that Bella hadn't slept well, so I had to rework this chapter a bit before writing the next one. If you read it a few weeks ago, it probably looks a bit different now…but it's back to canon. **

EPOV

I drove directly home. Rose wasn't going to calm down anytime soon, and I wanted to get the confrontation over with. I could hear her— mentally and verbally—before I could see the house.

_Stupid! Arrogant! Selfish…_

I rolled my eyes. I parked the car and saw Alice waiting on the steps, looking worried. Her mind was full of the sunny opening in the forest.

"The vision isn't relevant anymore. I didn't know I loved her then." I didn't pause as I walked by her and into the house.

"Just take her somewhere else," Alice said as she flitted in after me. "Show her the view from the top of Olympus. Or Hurricane Ridge. Anywhere else! Why risk it?"

"First things first," I said, catching Carlisle's eye as he came down the stairs.

_She knows?_

I nodded. We both walked into the dining room where everyone stood around the table. The last time we were in this room to discuss Bella the lines were drawn. It seemed everyone was still in too much shock this time. Or still deciding, I thought as I listened to the mental cacophony around me. Save one, of course.

"You couldn't be satisfied with playing some sick teenage _human_ Romeo game, you had to actually _tell_ her what we are," Rosalie snarled. I looked at Alice.

_I didn't tell them about Jacob._ Her eyes lost their focus momentarily._ But they'll find out one way or another…_

I held my hands up to stop the tirade. "I'm not playing a game with Bella." Rosalie started again but I interrupted. "And technically, I didn't tell her, I just confirmed what she'd discovered on her own." Well, not exactly her own. Carlisle's eyes grew large and I tried to block out all thoughts but his. No easy task.

"Are we suspected generally within Forks? Do we need to move?"

"No, I've been monitoring that carefully. Bella is unusually observant…and perceptive. She worked a lot out on her own. The other humans at the high school are in their usual state of vague repulsion and fascination towards us. Though I admit, the fact I'm spending time publicly with Bella is increasing attention towards me." I grimaced at the nature of some of that unwanted attention. Mike's observation flashed through my mind, but I quickly disregarded it; he also thought we all used plastic surgery. "It's nothing to worry about."

"She worked_ a lot_ on her own? So you did tell her yourself?" Carlisle's tone was not accusatory, just confused.

"No, she worked a lot out on her own, but she also received some information last weekend that I hadn't anticipated." I paused slightly, trying to decide how best to say this. "Bella went to La Push on Saturday with friends from school, and met up with an old family friend, Jacob Black."

There was stunned silence, and then a burst of swirling thoughts from every direction. _Black? So the treaty is void? _

"Jacob is young, and doesn't believe the stories himself. He was trying to impress Bella with his tribe's folklore. But she'd observed enough on her own that his slip made everything fall into place for her." I looked directly at Carlisle. "I don't think we should declare the treaty void. I assume the Quileute elders don't know it happened, and the boy is really innocent; he doesn't understand the implications of what he's done. We don't want a war based on the misunderstanding of a child." _I_ didn't want a war, with Bella in the middle of it.

Carlisle relaxed a bit, but still looked cautious.

"That's just _perfect_, Edward! You can't be satisfied with your own kind; you choose to fall for a _human_, and even that's not enough of a threat to us, it has to be a human who's friends with a _Quileute_? The actual heir of _Ephraim Black?" _Rosalie added incredulously.

I was finally angry. "Rosalie, I didn't _choose_ any of this. I didn't know she was familiar with the Quileutes until last night. But none of it matters. What does matter is I love her. I'm done hiding from her, and I'm done lying to her. Bella has kept a vague version of our secret since the accident; she's been silent for _months_. She's known we are vampires since Saturday, and hasn't breathed a word except to me, and that was done so gently it made me want to…" I trailed off. I didn't know what I wanted to do…weep, sing? "She's proven herself both trustworthy and trusting, and I won't reward her with lies and evasions." Carlisle smiled, and I didn't need to hear his thoughts to know that they were turning back to Bella's positive influence, even if he was concerned with exposure.

"This isn't just about _you_ trusting her, Edward!" Rosalie hissed. "You're exposing all of us."

"You know, Rose, I don't remember having a committee meeting when you brought Emmett to Carlisle…"

"That was different. I wanted him _changed_, I wasn't exposing us all."

"His family came looking for him, Rose. We had to move," I said calmly, regaining my hold on my temper. Rosalie always brought out the worst in me. "Not that I regret it, my brother," I added to Emmett.

_Don't worry about it, kid, _he thought, while putting his arm around Rose in an attempt to comfort her at the same time.

"Edward's right," Carlisle said as Rose started to answer. "He gets to follow his happiness just like the rest of us." His thoughts turned to Esme. Rose's thoughts were still murderous.

"_I_ wasn't flaunting the law," she snarled. She had me there. The Volturi would not like this situation. The fact that I hadn't told Bella might save me from their death sentence, but it wouldn't save her.

"How would the Volturi find out? Bella isn't going to say anything."

"How _did_ she take the news, Edward?" Esme asked.

I shook my head, wondering where to start. "She's amazing," I finally said. "She takes everything so calmly, as though she's learning I'm French and our relationship has slight cultural obstacles against it." I laughed a little.

"Does she know how she smells to you?" Jasper asked, as usual, assessing risks.

"Not exactly," I admitted. "She knows it's a powerful force—that I had wanted to kill her that first day—and that I struggled with the monster within to just to sit next to her in class. But she always focuses on the positive," I added to Esme. "The fact that I saved her life twice, rather than that I wanted to take it once."

Esme waited, smiling slightly. _So… _she finally asked of only me.

"She cares for me as well. She wants to be with me, even knowing everything."

_I _knew_ it! I knew she'd have to love him!_ Esme beamed. I heard the thoughts in the room relax slightly. Even Jasper smiled briefly and nodded. I thought I might be through the worst of it.

"They have a date on Saturday." Alice looked at me meaningfully. _We're not done here._

"But Saturday will be sunny," Esme said, a furrow in her brow.

"I was supposed to go to Seattle with her, but we've changed our plans. I'm taking her up to my meadow."

"Which is the same place," Alice added. "The same as the vision I had after the accident." Everyone knew that vision. I could feel the recoil in their thoughts. I spoke quickly.

"Alice, when you had the vision of me killing Bella, the monster was still rampant. I was still struggling against him daily. I never feel him anymore. He's been virtually silent since I realized I love her. My throat still burns when I'm near her," I added to Jasper. "But my emotions have changed. I welcome the burn. It means she's safe." I looked back at Alice. When you look at Saturday now, what do you see?"

Her eyes glazed a bit. She sighed. "I see you bringing her back, but I see you getting _really_ close to her." She looked a little exasperated. "If it happens, Edward, it won't be because you decided anything differently. I won't see it. It will just be a reaction. I…I can't rule it out." She looked down at the floor.

"But you see me bringing her back?" I pressed.

"That's what you've decided to do," she agreed. She wouldn't commit beyond that. I nodded at her. I could be strong. I could control the urge of the monster. I could even try to keep some distance between us, though it felt like _that_ urge would be the harder of the two to control.

_Edward?_ Carlisle wanted more assurance.

"I can do it. I love her. I'll bring her home," I said with more confidence than I had right to. I willed it to be true. Alice's eyes became unfocused for a moment and I caught part of a shadowy vision…Bella sitting at my piano. She smiled, and then shrugged at Carlisle. It wasn't a guarantee, but he perceived the slight change in her attitude.

"Well, I hope things continue to go well. Please keep monitoring. We'll need to move quickly if there are more suspicions."

"Bella won't say anything," I said.

"Perhaps, but it seems we are getting other attention as well." He thought of the Quileutes, and of me sitting alone with Bella in the lunchroom, no doubt as described by Rosalie.

_And Edward, if the Volturi _do_ find out, your hand may be forced…prepare yourself._ His thoughts turned to Alice's other vision: Bella with an impassive look and bright red eyes. I shuddered.

"I'll keep listening," I agreed.

Rose gave an exasperated hiss and left the room. _Like _he's_ capable of objectively deciding when it's too dangerous to stay…_

_Sorry kid._ Emmett added as he followed after her. _Good luck in the meadow…I wonder what odds Jasper would give me…_

A soft growl escaped my lips, and Esme looked towards the door with a worried look, assuming that it was directed to Rose. Alice walked over to Jasper, intent on trying to reassure him, and planning—her thoughts turned abruptly to a dress she'd seen on her favorite designer's website—she was hiding something.

"You are an annoying little pixie, you know that?" I said under my breath. She stuck her tongue out and led Jasper out of the room. He looked back at me once, very gravely, before disappearing through the doorway. _So many emotions wresting within you, Edward. Make sure you know which might undo you. _I let out a breath. The meeting was over. I turned back to my parents.

"Yesterday was busier than you let on," Carlisle said, an unusually wry grin turning up the corner of his mouth.

"Stopping the serial rapist seemed like the more pressing need… between that and containing my own desire for vengeance against him, I couldn't concentrate on much else during our drive to Port Angeles." I shook my head to rid myself of the memory and looked into Carlisle's face. "Honestly, I was still processing everything that had happened. I couldn't have told you how I felt about it yet, and I knew she wouldn't endanger us if I waited a day to absorb it." He nodded, smiling, and put his arm around Esme to lead her out the door. She just thought, _I'm so happy!_

"How _do_ you feel about it?" Carlisle continued as we walked down the hall.

"I feel… everything. Relief that she finally knows and it's not hanging over me anymore. Pure, excruciating joy that she wants to be with me, wants to know me. Pride that, out of everyone she's met here, she's chosen me. And of course utter and complete dread that I might, quite by accident, harm the sweetest, most amazing, most beautiful creature to ever walk this earth…no offence Mom." Esme's smile grew wider.

"I feel it all. When I'm with her, and I let myself focus on just the joy, it's the most amazing feeling I've had in my existence. But usually I'm feeling it all at once." Carlisle nodded. He understood the spaciousness of the vampire mind. I'd seen, and heard, him struggle in similar ways. His thoughts turned to our early years together, just after he had changed Esme. I remembered both of their emotions were tumultuous then, so unlike the calm and steady love in their minds now. It gave me hope.

"Just take all the precautions you can, son. I don't know how this will…evolve," he struggled for the best word, "but I know you deserve your happiness." I hoped he was right.

I went to my room and changed for school, and then ran back to Bella's house. As I looked in her window, I saw her covers coiled around her legs; she was restless, and not sleeping soundly. I entered her window cautiously, and she started and rolled over. Perhaps it was a too risky for me to be here tonight; but my relief at being in her presence was palpable—I couldn't imagine trying to leave. I saw that she had added a blanket to her bed; I didn't have that excuse to get close to her tonight, I thought ruefully. And I couldn't untangle it for her without waking her. I took a deep breath and let her fragrance burn across my throat, and closed my eyes, actually enjoying the sensation. What a masochist I'd become. There were no hints of the monster, and I smiled. She moved again, and I slowly slid one of her closet doors open slightly, just enough that I could get in easily if I needed a quick hiding place.

As I acclimated to her scent, I thought about the meeting. Alice was still worried. I couldn't imagine being driven to harm, much less kill Bella, but Alice was still worried, and I shouldn't take it lightly. Alice saw me getting close to her…closer than in Biology? Closer than touching her outside the gym? My fingers burned. How close would she have to be for the monster to be able to surprise me? What sort of precautions could I take, if Alice saw me abandoning my original plan of keeping my distance?

I looked around her room, as if I were looking for clues. I saw, once again, the piles of books and CDs. I started to move toward the CDs…they were still across the room from her bed, I could easily look at a few without getting too close, or risking waking her. But I stopped. Tomorrow was my turn. I could ask her about her CDs, and books, and anything else. Suddenly it felt like cheating to look.

I'd had to work so hard to learn what I knew of Bella. Work to learn her expressions, and body language. I took pride in knowing that I deduced so much more than the other students she was in daily contact with. And I had learned important things: that she was kind and self-effacing, brave and generous, and good. But there was a whole world of things I didn't know about her. All the things normal friends, and certainly someone courting a girl, would know. Her likes, and dislikes, the names of childhood friends, her dreams and aspirations…what she found beautiful or poetic. Things, in other words, that I often knew about complete strangers just because they were broadcasting them and I was too close to ignore it. It felt wrong that I knew Jessica's favorite color, but not Bella's. I would remedy that tomorrow, I thought with relief. A contented smile grew cross my face as I listened to her breathe. I would not peek.

She rolled onto her back, and I tensed, ready to hide if necessary. She was mumbling, and I saw her hand move as if reaching for something. She said my name, and bolted awake. I barely had time to get in the closet before her eyes moved in my direction. I was in the darkest corner of her closet, watching her through the crack between the door and the wall. In the shadows, hoping she wouldn't come to investigate; I was cornered, and this would be very difficult to explain.

She sat up in bed and covered her face with her hands, trying to settle herself. What was troubling her? When I thought back on the day, I could think of nothing that should upset her. Well, maybe that I'd spied on her gym class, but she'd seemed to forgive me. From my perspective, anyway, it had been a very _good_ day. She sighed and took a sip of water, and then noticed the state of her covers. She groaned and started tugging at them, trying to untangle herself and make them smooth again. I chuckled. They were so twisted and she was so groggy, she kept unwinding them in the wrong direction, making matters worse. She eventually just got out of bed, ripped the blankets off and shook them out, finally getting them straightened. I was shaking violently with mirth, hoping I could remain silent. I'd been right to stay; this was too good to miss. She got back under her covers, took another sip of water, lay down with her arms folded across her chest, and took a long sigh. In a few moments, she was asleep again.

I went back to the rocking chair, watching peace smooth her face while she slept. I thought back to the meeting again, considering Alice's proposal that that I simply take Bella to a different place, and negate the vision in that way. Her specific suggestions, of course, were ridiculous. The top of Mt. Olympus, with a temperature of 15 degrees, would be the last place on earth that would make Bella comfortable, no matter how stunning the view. Even Hurricane Ridge would be cold this time of year. Alice didn't know Bella like I did. And those places were both so stark; they would accentuate my alien nature, make me harder to relate to…not my goal. The meadow, on the other hand, was soft and warm and beautiful. Revealing myself there, I was sure, would soften the blow. And just as I didn't know what Bella found beautiful or poetic, she didn't know these things about me either. The meadow was one of my favorite places. I wanted to share it with her, not just to make her comfortable, but also to help her understand me. To show her something I found beautiful, other than her.

Bella's breathing hitched, and rolled onto her side. She began talking again, this time to her mother; she was worried about her. She kept tossing. It was fascinating. Not being able to sleep myself, I'd forgotten that it isn't just a single state. Bella's moods seemed to change as much in sleep as mine did while awake. She had another quiet period, and then she started breathing very quickly, her hands twitching towards something again as she said my name. Would it ever cease to thrill me, to hear my name on her lips? She started to move and I hid again, coming back out when was sleeping peacefully again. We kept repeating that pattern. She awoke twice more while I watched her, both times squinting at the alarm clock and groaning. It was now three in the morning, and she finally seemed to fall into a deeper sleep, her mind no longer reflecting on the worries that troubled her. I continued to think of the ones that troubled me: Alice's concern and Carlisle's suggestion that I take precautions.

By now the pain in my throat was dull, barely noticeable. I thought about this morning. Bella's scent had been on my jacket, and it had kept me acclimated through my classes; the burn at lunch had been much more manageable because of it. Perhaps that was a precaution I could take. Perhaps, if I kept her scent with me when we were apart, I would stay desensitized enough that the monster would be less able to surprise me.

I slowly took my jacket off, and stole to her bed, watching her carefully to make sure she not at risk of waking again. I purposefully did not hold my breath; the burn in my throat increased, but I didn't mind. I carefully draped my jacket over her shoulder, and backed away to the chair, watching her closely so I could grab the jacket and hide if I'd wakened her. She shifted slightly, and I froze, hoping that she wouldn't be too warm, or feel the change of weight on her shoulders. But she settled into a new pose and continued breathing deeply, and I sat back in the chair and tried, and failed, to relax.

Bella started shifting again, under my coat, and I heard her take in a long, deep breath. I tensed, ready to grab the jacket, and strained to hear her lips part and a faint whisper: "Edward, don't…" Shock twisted my face. _Don't? _ What was I doing to her in her dream that required this admonishment? Was her subconscious finally catching up with her situation, and allowing her to feel the natural fear that her conscious mind managed to avoid? Was she more perceptive than I? Yes. Did she sense the danger Alice sees; that I was too blind by my warring desires to see clearly? I paused, straightening up. But she didn't sound frightened. I looked at her, but her face was hidden behind my jacket. _Argh._ I wished, _again_, that I could just _see_ her dream, and know what she thought me capable of; all pride in learning to discern her nature the hard way, through observation and conversation, vanished in the face of my frustration. I cautiously made my way over to her bed so I had a clear view of her face. It was peaceful. I clenched my fists, dissatisfied. None of this made any sense.

"Edward, don't be afraid…" she whispered. Relief washed over me, and I smiled and shook my head. Bella was comforting me? I hung over her life like a blade and she's reassuring me in her dream. She moved again slightly, as if straining forward. I knelt by her bed and watched her face with fascination, trying to divine her emotions from every slight movement. I was being careless. If she opened her eyes, she would see me before I could take the coat and blur out of her vision. It would be just for a fraction of a second, but she was so perceptive, she'd probably realize it was not part of her dream. I shook my head in mild disgust with myself…this was exactly what Alice had warned me of. Yet, I didn't feel the monster. The burn was there, of course, but it was a vague annoyance in the corner of my mind. I didn't feel my venom surge…_well_ _now I do_ I thought, but that was because I consciously took my thoughts there, not just a reaction to her. I swallowed it down. No, the dominant feelings I had being this close to her were the fascination and frustration of not knowing everything she was thinking, and this twist in my center that I couldn't explain as I watched her eyes move behind her thin lids and her lips twitch slightly. She took another deep breath and stretched her arm a few inches in my direction. She was talking again, but I couldn't make out words, and then,

"…touch me."

My eyes grew wider and then closed as I felt the current flowing between us again, as it had in the classroom, and the car. I _had_ been right. She wanted my touch, just as I longed for hers. The twist in my center grew tighter and I felt my whole body glow with the electricity she generated in me. I gazed at her face again; it looked expectant. I had to remind myself that she wasn't asking _me_ right now, she was reliving some earlier moment, perhaps outside the gym when she watched the struggle on my face. But her left hand was so close to mine now. I cursed myself for wanting to take the risk, and then slowly, deliberately touched the tip of her index finger with mine. It was an innocent touch, yet the heat was consuming. I froze my hand there, relishing the sensation and forcing myself not to increase the contact, or pull away abruptly. She smiled and let out a breath, muttering, "marble." I could only guess what that meant. After several minutes she seemed to be drifting back into a deeper sleep. I removed my touch slowly, so as not to startle her, and sat back on the floor, watching her, and feeling how the fingers on both hands now tingled.

She was not afraid. She wanted my company, my touch. And I wanted her happiness. _And more_, I admitted. I sat on the floor, surrounded by her things, letting her fragrance penetrate my clothing, my jacket, my very being. I could keep her safe, and I could satisfy my own need to know her, and have her know me. Tomorrow I would start unraveling her mysteries, and Saturday she would finally understand the last of mine. I reveled in the joy those thoughts created, and remained in that state of bliss until the gray dawn entered her window. I retrieved my jacket, inhaling deeply at the collar as I put it on to feel the potent aroma scorch my throat anew. I smiled and left through the window to get my car.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I discovered the Twilight series recently, and only read Midnight Sun off Stephenie Meyer's website last month. I was sad that it just stopped. Edward's POV is so compelling. Then I was devastated when I did a bit of research and discovered that Ms. Meyer appears to have no desire to finish the project now. Fortunately, I discovered Meadow of the Midnight Sun, a well written and true-to-canon fanfiction piece by HeartOfDarkess, which did a very nice job satisfying that void. The only problem was a gap between the two works that left me wondering Edward's view of those days. These few chapters will attempt to explore those days, and serve as a bridge between the two works. The intent is to be true to canon. **

**My first chapter starts directly after the end of Stephenie Meyer's last draft chapter. There is no introduction; I just start right up. If it's been a while since you read Midnight Sun, you might want to start there. **

**Also, if you read the first chapter when I first posted it (a looong time ago, it seems now), you might want to reread it. I wrote the original version when I was away from home, and therefore, my copy of Twilight. When I came home and got ready to write the next chapter, I discovered canon issues that I've since fixed. **

**Thanks to HeartOfDarkess for her encouragement to write this, and for serving as an unofficial beta. You've been so generous, with your time, thoughts, and insight. For the other 40 or so of you who are reading the story, please let me know what you think. I'm new to this, and the reviews and feedback would be very welcome.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

EPOV

Driving back to her house, excited about finally getting answers to my questions, my fingers started to burn just from the thought of her. I sighed, my happy mood slightly dampened. What was I going to do about this? Logically, it seemed like touching her was a mistake. It could so clearly go wrong, and the results would be disastrous. _But I wanted it._ And so did _she_, it would seem. And clearly…_clearly_…I was unable to resist. Yesterday my hand had touched her without my express consent. It had its own ideas about things, and was at least as stubborn as my mind. I hadn't hurt her; it wasn't a mistake in that sense, but it left me unsatisfied, wanting more. I knew that this would be like my resolve to avoid her, which had failed so spectacularly. It would be harder to resist touching her each day, and each time I gave in, I would want to touch her even more. And if she asked me to touch her, as she had in her dream last night, I knew I would not be able to withstand that. I couldn't resist when her eyes were closed, her voice merely a whisper. If she were gazing into my eyes, as she had in the car…if she touched me first, as she had in the restaurant—now the back of my hand was burning as well—I knew I'd be helpless to resist her request. So perhaps instead of trying to completely avoid touching her, and setting myself up for daily failure, I should allow myself specific types of touches, and practice touching her carefully; being safe. Perhaps I would get used to her softness and warmth, just as I had become accustomed to her scent. After all, in both cases yesterday, I had exercised control. I had not hurt her; I had not asked for too much in my touch. And touching her in public, with witnesses to help curb my behavior, seemed much safer than holding off and then becoming overwhelmed when she gazed at me in the car, alone, the current buzzing between us. _That_ seemed like the recipe for disaster. But small touches at school might help me acclimate to this new urge, and help me gain control over it.

I parked around the corner from Bella's house, and started listening to her conversation with her father.

…_you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?_

_I'm not going to the dance, Dad._

_Didn't anyone ask you?_

Did they ever, I thought, grinning as I remembered all the ones she'd said no to. _I_ would be with her that day. It still amazed me. She'd said yes to _me_.

_It's a girl's choice._ I laughed as she avoided the question.

_Oh._

The conversation was over. I couldn't get anything from either of their minds—well, Charlie's mind was vaguely concerned and protective—so whatever they may have communicated silently was lost on me. Irritation flashed across my mind. I was forever bombarded with thoughts I wanted no part of, and here I was, blind to a scene that actually interested me. I heard Charlie leave the house and start his car, and moved my car into position when he left. My irritation vanished when I saw her come out wearing a thin, clinging turtleneck under her lightest jacket. She walked over to the car, but hesitated slightly before getting in. I chuckled, thinking that with all she knew about me, she was still shy.

"Good morning. How are you today?" I asked, studying her face to see if there were signs of her restless night. There were circles under her dark eyes; she looked a bit like a vampire who hadn't fed recently. I shuddered internally.

"Good, thank you." She was such a bad liar.

"You look tired," I said, gently.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.

"Neither could I," I said, enjoying the fact that she would finally get one of my jokes. I started toward the school.

"I guess that's right! I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did," she said, laughing.

"I'd wager you did." I looked at her and smiled.

"So what did you do last night?" she asked.

_Well let's see…I hid in your closet several times so you wouldn't catch me watching you, while I thought of the best ways to _probably_ not kill you. Oh and I touched you when you were unconscious, but I promise, it was completely innocent._

"Not a chance!" I said laughing, "It's my day to ask the questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" She looked perplexed.

I started with the most cliché. "What's your favorite color?" Since I was expecting her to surprise me, I felt confident it wouldn't be pink or—I shuddered as I thought of Jessica— teal.

She rolled her eyes. "It changes from day to day." Of course it does.

"What's your favorite color today?" I clarified.

"Probably brown," she said, looking down at the brown turtleneck that clung to her curves.

"Brown?" I scoffed. I'd expected her to surprise me, but _brown_? Was that technically even a color?

"Sure. Brown is warm. I _miss_ brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown— tree trunks, rocks, dirt—is all covered with squashy green stuff here." I smiled at her little rant…I'd be asking more questions about her home later. I looked into her molten chocolate brown eyes, and noticed how her smooth brown hair fell over her shoulders to meet her soft brown turtleneck; I realized that brown was my new favorite color too. My hand reached up to touch her— I hesitated, checking. Yes, this was a safe touch. I swept her hair back behind her shoulder, feeling the silky strands caress the back of my hand.

"You're right, brown is warm," I said seriously. She blushed…so lovely.

I moved onto my next question as I pulled into the parking lot. "What music is in your CD player right now?" I asked seriously. I had little hope that I could share much musical taste with an actual seventeen year old. Most of what played on the radio was truly hideous, and most of these children ate it up like candy. And that's all it was; there was no substance at all. By the end of the day I would know exactly how desperately I needed to work on Bella's musical education; and whether Claire de Lune had been a sign of general good taste, or a fluke. But her answer surprised me again, and I reached down into the collection of music I kept in the car, pulling out the same CD.

"Debussy to this?" I asked incredulously. She nodded in recognition. We got out of the car and I started walking her to her English class.

"What's your favorite novel?" I asked, not able to keep to a single topic.

"I can't say."

"It's a secret?" I asked, surprised.

"No, no…it's just too big a question, I can't pick just one."

"Oh, I see. What's your favorite Jane Austen novel?" She seemed surprised that I was guessing she was an Austen fan. I was going to have to confess to all my spying at some point.

"Hmm. Well, even there it's hard to pick just one…probably Sense and Sensibility."

"Not Pride and Prejudice?" Girls always chose Pride and Prejudice.

"I like that one too; Elizabeth and Darcy are great characters, but it's all pretty pat. Everyone gets what they deserve, good and bad. Sense and Sensibility is messier…bad people have good outcomes, good people don't get what they think they want… it makes me think more."

Interesting. We were at her English room now, and people were rushing around us to get to their class.

"Favorite Shakespeare play?" I asked quickly, guessing that she'd read more than one of those.

"Romeo and Juliet." Hmm. A tragic love story. That was disappointing.

I looked into her eyes and wished we could just ditch school for the day; all these classes were going to interfere with my inquiries. "I'll see you after Spanish," I promised.

"Okay, have a good morning," she said, and turned to go into her class. I walked to Calculus, taking her scent with me on my jacket.

My morning classes dragged even more than usual. I checked in with Bella's classes now and then, but hers weren't any more interesting than mine. Gym was the worst, and I entertained myself imagining the chaos that would ensue if my siblings and I _really _played badminton. How many racquets would we destroy, I wondered.

I was waiting for her when she came out of Spanish, and she walked straight to me, the heat of her body nearly knocking me back.

"Hi," she said smiling.

"Hello…Favorite painter?" I asked, and she laughed at my impatience.

"Monet, at the moment." That was a typical response…girls liked all those flowers. We started walking toward the lunchroom. She added, "Did you know that when he made those cathedral paintings, he had all four canvasses up at once? As the light changed over the course of the day, he would switch between them." So not the pretty flowers; the study of light. Esme would find that interesting; light was a big part of architecture. "And once I was at a museum in New York with a cousin, and I saw one of his water lily paintings that was huge…like three panels, each one twelve feet tall or so. If you sat on the bench, you couldn't take the whole painting in. Part of it was in your peripheral vision. I swear, when I saw part of it with the corner of my eye, I could see a carp below the surface of the water, but when I looked at that part of the painting straight on, I didn't see it. I tried it over and over, and sometimes the carp even seemed to move. That's just magic." Fascinating. She'd really thought about it. "I like others too: van Gogh…I like how muscular his strokes are."

"Anything _not_ from the Impressionists?" I asked. She thought about it for a moment.

"I like some of the Dutch masters…how luminous the skin tones look. And I went through a Pre-Raphaelite phase when I was a little obsessed with Millais and Moore and Burne-Jones…but not Rossetti so much." I raised my eyebrows, questioning. "He always paints the same lips," she complained.

"Well, mostly he painted the same woman," I laughed.

"But even when he didn't, he painted the same lips…right now, though," she said, getting back on track, "I seem to be drawn to the Impressionists."

I asked her about movies while we paid for our food and made our way to our table. Most of her answers were not very surprising, until she said her favorite actor was Morgan Freeman.

"Wait, wait. You are a teenager, right? Your favorite actor is 70 years old? Not Orlando Bloom or Matt Damon?" I asked, mocking her a little.

"He's an excellent actor," she insisted.

"I don't dispute it," I said, waiting. There had to be more to this. She sighed and looked away, taking a bite of apple. She glowered at me slightly, as she swallowed.

"He has a great voice," she finally said, acting like she was caught in some compromising position, "and expressive eyes." Ah. I knew my face must have looked amused as things fell into place for me. She fidgeted under my gaze. These were qualities of mine she liked. I wondered, if she had actually known Mister Freeman and we were the same age, if I'd have some competition…well, we _were_ close in age I realized, laughing. I shook the thought away.

"Favorite poet?" I asked as she took another bite. I was going to have to pace myself if she was going to get any food into her system.

"Cummings."

"Cummings?" I blurted out. "Don't you think his work's a little vulgar?" She blushed.

"Well, some of it, but some of it is really…intimate I guess."

"Tell me some of your favorites." She paused, struggling. "Please," I added. She smiled.

"I don't mind telling you, it's just that the don't have names, they are usually known by their first line, but I always remember them by their last line."

"Okay, give me last lines."

She held up her fingers as she listed them. "Let's see…'nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands', 'the breaking of your soul upon my lips', 'where always it is Spring and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves"…you know some of what he does, like that last one, is not so different from Monet…he's not very linear…he paints with words." I thought about that, and realized that she'd given me reason enough to look at his work again, though I'd dismissed it decades ago. I'd been so haughty, assuming I'd have to educate her. She was surprising me again.

"You said that you mother used to play classical music in the house…besides Debussy, what were your favorites?"

"Puccini…"

"Opera?" I interrupted.

"Yeah, lots of opera, but Puccini is my favorite."

"La Boheme?" I asked, cringing at the idea of her liking another tragic love story.

"I like that one, but I think La Rondine is my favorite." Worse, much worse…much more tragic. Did she paint our story among all these star-crossed lovers?

"It's pretty sad," I said.

"Well, I really like that aria in the beginning." Hmm. I'd have to remind myself.

"What else?"

"Chopin…Bach…Rachmaninoff…"

"Which Rachmaninoff?"

"I like a lot of them. The third concerto is probably my favorite." I smirked and her face grew curious. We both watched as a group of students passed our table. "What's that look?" she asked in a low voice when they were gone.

I leaned in, making sure that the students were far enough away. "I've seen him play it."

"Who…Rachmaninoff?" she asked, a little too loudly, her eyes wide.

"Shhh. Yes. With Horowitz in Carnegie Hall. It was a gift from Carlisle and Esme…We were living on the east coast when Horowitz had his debut," I whispered.

"You saw Rachmaninoff play his own work?" she whispered incredulously. I could see her trying to work out how old I must be. I wasn't ready for that yet, so I changed the subject.

"What's your favorite gemstone?"

"Topaz." She answered still distracted by my last statement. Then she blushed. What could that mean?

"Why are you embarrassed about a gem?" I asked, amused.

She shook her head and took her last bite of apple. She wasn't looking at me. She did this, I realized, when she was worried about being dazzled. I tried harder, making my voice as velvety as I could. "Please, Bella, I won't laugh. I'm just trying to understand you." She stopped shaking her head, but she wasn't talking and she wouldn't look at me. Hmmm. So the voice alone wasn't enough. I reach my hand in her direction, not actually touching her, but it drew her eye and she looked at my face. "Tell me." I commanded gently. I immediately saw the resignation on her face.

"It's the color of your eyes today," she said, looking down again. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." I couldn't tease her about this. Not when my favorite color had changed to brown just this morning. I briefly wondered what her favorite gemstone had been before we'd met, but realized it didn't matter; I'd changed her, just as she'd forever altered me.

"What flowers do you prefer?" The relief was visible on her face.

"Well, let's see. I like ocotillo." She ate a bite of pizza as I mentally ran through all of Esme's gardening books, all of the lists of Victorian flower meanings, all of the flowers that Rosalie had ever used in any of her dozens of weddings…I came up completely blank. I shook my head at her slightly. "It's a desert plant." Ah. Anything desert was not really my forte. "Most of the year they look sort of dead, but they leaf out when the rains start, and then in early March the top of each stalk suddenly develops a long cluster of bright red flowers. It's like someone went out overnight and lit candles all across the landscape. It's really stunning."

"Are they ever used in bouquets?" I asked. This made her laugh hard. I tilted my head and watched her with fascinated amusement. "What's funny," I asked, wanting in on the joke.

"Well, the stalks are about ten feet tall, and they're covered in really stiff one-inch long spines. In a bouquet I think they might send a mixed message," she said, her eyes dancing. I envisioned it too, and laughed. I motioned that we should start heading for class. She took a long sip of milk, and we cleared our things and headed to the hall.

"What flowers do you like that _are_ used in arrangements?" I asked. I assumed it wouldn't be the normal female response: red roses, or the suddenly ubiquitous Gerber daisies.

"I like flowers that smell good. I like stock, and lilacs. I like roses," my eyebrows raised in surprise. "… but only the old fashioned ones that smell good. Oh, and tuberoses, they smell nice." These were mostly old-fashioned flowers; ones that didn't grow in the desert. I wondered what her experience with them was, since she'd been in a warm climate so long. She explained without me having to ask.

"Charlie's mom and dad lived here when Mom left him—part of why he never followed her I think—they were pretty sick. They died shortly after that, but he rented out their house for a while and I remember visiting the gardens when I'd come in the summers. There was an arch of climbing roses that you'd go under to get into the garden, and it always made me think of the Secret Garden when I was little. Charlie used to let me pick flowers to take back to his house, and it was lilacs and climbing roses and hydrangeas…I like those too," she added. "When he sold the house, it needed work, and the people who bought it basically tore out the gardens to get machinery in to stabilize the fireplace while they worked on it. If they'd done it when I was here, I would have begged him to let me transplant some of the plants into his yard, but it was all done by the time I came back the following summer. Charlie's not much of a green thumb anyway—and neither am I—so it might be just as well."

We were at the biology classroom now, and I held the door open for her and gently touched the small of her back, leading her in. It was such a soft touch that she didn't even notice, but I felt the heat from her skin through the soft fibers of her turtleneck. My fingertips buzzed with delight. She looked at my expression and raised her eyebrows, asking if something was wrong. I shook my head and walked to our table, amused that we could have silent conversations—short ones anyway—despite the fact that I couldn't hear her thoughts.

"Favorite candy?" I asked, trying to distract myself as I flexed my hand.

She sighed. "Marzipan, dipped in chocolate. Or truffles."

"Dark, milk, or white chocolate?"

"Dark, of course." I laughed when I saw her expression. She'd thought that was a ridiculous question. The answer should have been obvious. I decided to go with a harder one.

"Name five albums that are important to you for any reason. And not classical, since we've covered that a bit."

"Hmm. Okay, Miles Davis–Kind of Blue." She held up one finger. Jazz. Interesting. That opened up a whole new world to talk about. "Duncan Sheik–Phantom Moon." Didn't know it. Her fingers kept tallying them off. "Jonatha Brooke–Steady Pull, Zero 7–Simple Things" Didn't know it; like it. "And…Stevie Wonder– Songs in the Key of Life." _Wait. What?_

"Stevie Wonder?"

"Songs in the Key of Life was a seminal work," she insisted.

"Oh really?" I asked grinning.

"As, Summer Soft, Ordinary Pain, Knocks Me Off My Feet, If it's Magic…" she listed off the songs she valued.

"Okay," I said skeptically. The seventies were not my favorite decade for music.

"My mom used to play it when I was little, and some of the songs are really sad, but on the happy ones, we'd dance around the living room."

"You danced around the living room?" She had to be making this up…testing me, trying to see if I was actually listening to her answers.

"Well, Renee moved her feet more than I did. She can really rock out in the living room to some Stevie." Even Bella chuckled at that. I was still searching her face trying to decide if she was being serious. "I told you she was young for her age…well, when I was eight we had exactly the same love of dancing around the house. Some of it was to much more embarrassing music..."

I laughed, deciding finally that she was being honest. "Where was I wasting my time in the mid-nineties when I could have been witnessing _that_?" She rolled her eyes as Mr. Banner rolled in the audiovisual cart. When he went to shut off the lights, I slid my chair away from her slightly, remembering yesterday, and she flashed me a quick and slightly wicked grin. Then the lights were out and the current was back in force. I should have remembered that it was going to be dark in class before I touched her on the way into the room. My whole body was abuzz with the electricity, but that hand, so close to her, was already primed, already aware of how soft the turtleneck was, how her warmth bled right through it. Her hand twitched toward mine, and then she wrapped her arms across her chest, just as she had yesterday. I mimicked her, but it felt impossible to resist touching her, knowing that her hand had wanted mine. She slid forward, resting her chin on her arms, and grasping the edge of the desk with her fingers, as though she could only control them if they were clinging to a hard, unforgiving surface—which is actually how I would feel to her, I realized, ironically. I leaned back in my chair, hoping to put a few extra inches of distance between us and realized that it gave me a perfect view of the small of her back, the curve of her spine. From where I sat it would be easy to reach out and trace the beads of her spine, like a delicate string of pearls, down her back, and let my hand rest just above her jeans. But that would not be a safe touch. Far too intimate…I might actually scare her… and far too likely to make me want to touch her further. I clenched my fists again. This hour was going to be agonizing. The movie droned on and on, and I just watched Bella's back and shoulders, imagined touching them, and tried to find meaning in each sigh or movement of hers. I felt fairly confident that she couldn't be watching the movie, but I longed to know what she was thinking. Then again, perhaps I should be grateful that I didn't know. If I knew for certain that she longed to touch me, hold my hand, the way I felt right now I'd probably whisk her in my arms, carry her at immortal speed to the forest and…and what? There was nothing I could do that would be safe, no way to ease these longings. No, it was better that I was uncertain, that we stayed in a room full of witnesses, and that I kept my hands to myself until it was light again and this stream of electricity buzzing through me ebbed a bit. I felt certain that it would never completely disappear again. I looked at my skin to make sure I wasn't actually glowing.

Finally it ended, and the lights came up. She looked at me and her face registered surprise. The struggles of the hour must be written on my face; the teasing inquiry about her living room dancing a distant memory. We walked in silence toward the gym, and I wondered if there was any touch that could be safe when my emotions were so tumultuous. She turned to me expectantly outside the gym door. She was close, her heat and smell reaching out to me, pulling my hand up to touch her. My fingertips were too eager, too primed to be trusted. I touched her with the less-sensitive back of my hand, tracing along the outside of her face. It felt wonderful to give in just a little, and I quickly turned and went to Spanish before I could give in to any of the other urges I'd entertained over the last hour.

Emmett caught me in the hall.

_What's up, bro? Are we setting up any other humans today? Going into business as lonely hearts club blind date service? _

I grinned and shook my head, entering the classroom after him. Ben noticed me enter the room, and scowled. I heard him continue to plan how he would ask Angela out. He'd already managed to get her phone number. My spirits lifted a bit, and I pulled my homework out and got it ready to hand in.

Spanish turned out to be intellectually stimulating, possibly a first for Forks High School. Mrs. Goff handed out sheet of paper with a poem in English: Like a Lover. It was an English version of a Portuguese song lyric. We were to translate it to Spanish, trying to capture meaning and tenor, while maintaining the rhythm so it could still be used for lyrics. In English it was one of the more beautiful things I'd ever read, and I was curious to know what melody had been composed for a piece so full of longing and beautiful imagery. I translated it into Spanish, trying a few times before I was satisfied that I was capturing the yearning and imagery in the poem. Then, since I had time, I also translated it into Portuguese. At the end of class, we discussed the difficulties in translating meaning and tone and rhythm at the same time. None of our Spanish versions seemed to quite do justice to the English poem. I actually approached Mrs. Goff at the end of class and asked her about the song.

"It's an old song, Edward," she said taking my work, and realizing I'd also translated it into Portuguese. "There are a lot of versions, if you go online. I'd recommend finding one with just one guitar and one voice…it's best if it's a bit stark." It was the most insightful thing she'd ever said to me.

"Can you recommend one?" She smiled, and wrote the names of two albums down on my Portuguese translation and handed it back to me.

"This album has one of my favorite English versions, and this has the original, actually called O Cantador, by Dori Caymmi."

"Thank you," I said pocketing the paper. I barely made it to the gym doors before Bella came out, giving me a smile that cut straight through the gloom of Forks in winter. I smiled broadly as I took in the sight of her, and then asked "Favorite American author?" She rolled her eyes and we talked about books on the way to the car and the drive to Charlie's house.

"What do you miss about home? Phoenix, I mean? Other than 'brown'?"

"Let's see, tank tops, shorts, sandals, hot pavement…"

"Okay, weather, check, what else?" I said laughing.

"I miss the shapes of things. You can see the rock formations, and how the wind and water— mostly wind— have sculpted them. And they look different in different light, with purple shadows and orange light at sunset, contrasting with the blue sky that's so big it feels heavy."

"The play of light on form…sounds like architecture," I said, thinking again that Esme might really appreciate Bella's aesthetic taste if they ever got to know one another. I looked at the forest that encroached on everything here and understood why she complained in her sleep that it was too green; you couldn't see the underlying form of any of the landscape here.

"What else?" I asked, and watched her face, so animated, as she described the sights and sounds and smells of her home for hours. She tried to draw pictures with her hands in the air, and I was distracted by the graceful way they moved as she tried to describe the shapes of the mountains, and desolate beauty of the vegetation. We sat in the car for hours, and the light outside changed to a darker grey. Finally, I decided more questions would have to wait.

"Are you finished?" she asked, when I left an unusual pause after one of her answers.

"Not even close—but your father will be home soon," I answered, watching the sky.

"Charlie!" she cried, realizing that she'd completely lost track of the time. "How late is it?"

"It's twilight," I answered, looking west, where I could tell the sun had slipped below the horizon, even though trees and clouds obscured it from her view. A brief time when I could be out, even in Phoenix, and see all the things she tried to describe for me. I looked into her face again. "It's the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest in a way…the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" My thoughts turned to the brief time in my existence when I was limited to the night; when my blood red eyes prevented me from showing myself during the day. When I'd mistook to the monster within for a god, meting out justice to human monsters prowling the alleys of New York City. Sitting with this exquisite, gentle woman, hearing about her home, knowing she cared for me…it was all so infinitely better. I would _not_ become the monster again. I could be safe for her.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars. Not that you see them here much," she added, looking at the sky and frowning. I laughed at her expression, effectively pulled from my grim reverie.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So unless you want to tell him you'll be with me Saturday…" I suggested, hoping she would give me this most important witness, one more tether on the beast within.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Of course. I sighed softly as she collected her books. "So is it my turn tomorrow?"

"Certainly not!" I teased. There would be plenty of time to answer her questions after I'd proven myself Saturday. I remembered Alice's advice to Jasper on the day Bella arrived at school. Thinking of them as people helped keep the monsters within us at bay. Of course I already thought of Bella as a person—the most beautiful and important person on the planet—but I wanted every piece of information that might help me fight the monster on Saturday. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." I reached across her to open the door for her, taking in her scent and wondering if there was a safe touch I could leave her with, when their thoughts intruded my mind. I hissed softly, and whispered, "Not good." Quileutes were coming here, to Bella's house, and there was no time for me to leave.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Another complication," I answered, the pain clear in my voice. I opened the door and moved away from her quickly, hoping against hope that they wouldn't recognize me, or would think nothing of my being here, with Bella moving out of the car, and me as far from her as possible. But their headlights came towards us like a searchlight, and I was trapped, like a cornered animal or convict. I immediately heard the recognition from the old man, the hatred and fear…fear for Bella and Charlie. Fear for the tribe, as he realized that for Bella he'd have to break the treaty, and that there were so few wolves to protect the tribe. _There were still wolves? _I hadn't expected that. So it would be war. But I'd done nothing wrong. I _would _do nothing wrong. Yet now I could envision the carnage; my family in danger. _Why did it have to come to that?_ Why couldn't the fates just let me love where I would, without jeopardizing _everything_? I was overwhelmed with anguish, even as I defiantly looked into his eyes, willing him to see that I hadn't hurt her, _wouldn't hurt her._

"Charlie's around the corner," I said finally, for the first time actually wanting her out of my car. The further she was from me right now the safer she'd be. She quickly got out of the car, seeing my struggle, confused as I continued to stare down the old man. I couldn't even say goodbye. As soon as she was clear, I revved the engine and put as much distance as I could between the old man and myself. If there was to be war, let it be over something real, and not just tempers flaring in the night.

I started heading home and then realized that I needed to see if the treaty _was_ being broken before I talked to Carlisle. With me out of view, perhaps the old man would calm enough to think straight. I parked the car a few blocks from Bella's house, and listened. It was harder than it should have been, without the benefit of hearing Bella's or Charlie's thoughts, but after monitoring for a while, I gleaned the information I needed. Billy Black, the old man, was shaken, but was not going to tell Charlie tonight. He was too worried for the tribe. He knew the pack was outnumbered. But he was concerned. And trying to figure out what he could say, how far he could go without breaking the treaty. Jacob was still innocent. That is, he didn't know the truth about us, and laughed with Bella about his father's reactions. In another light, though, he was far from innocent. Bella's flirting had worked too well on the poor boy. He didn't see me as an enemy, but certainly as a rival. Well, that was irritating, but far down the list right now. Further up the list of irritations was that I'd have to admit that Rosalie was right; I was endangering them all. I sighed, as I realized I could get no more information from listening, and it was time to go home.

I entered the house and went directly up to Carlisle's office. He was aware before I knocked.

_Come in, Edward._

I closed the door behind me, wanting at least the illusion of privacy, and walked over to his desk. I reached into my bag, and handed him the paper from Spanish class.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A poem we translated today in Spanish…well, lyrics, actually. Do you remember when Esme first joined us…before I hunted those mountain lions that were destroying the local livestock?"

"Before Esme and I declared ourselves," he clarified, reading the page. "Oh, I see. Yes, this captures it nicely doesn't it?"

"I thought you'd like it."

"Yes. Do you mind if I share this with her?" he asked looking at me. I shook my head. "Have you been thinking about that time, or did it just strike you when you read this?" His eyes were searching my face, trying to understand the pain there.

"Both. I've been thinking about your early days with Esme…drawing parallels I think."

"Understandable." He was a bit bewildered for a moment. _So, is Bella your mate then?_

"It feels the same, Carlisle. It feels the same to me as your thoughts were then, but it's just so much more complicated. You had it so easy."

He chuckled at that, remembering that it hadn't felt easy at the time, but then looked at me seriously.

"Sit down, Edward. Help me understand," he said gently.

"Esme was dying. She had decided herself she had nothing left to live for…and no one was looking for her…no one would be aware of your choice, except me. It made your decision easier. Bella is so fragile. And now, a Quileute elder, Billy Black, is at her house…yes, right now," I answered his thought. "I monitored for a while, and he's not going to break the treaty tonight, but he saw me with Bella, he recognizes what I am, and he loves Charlie…he's worried, and he's trying to decide what he _can_ do without endangering the tribe. _And_ there are still wolves, but a small number; he was worried that the pack was outnumbered, if it came to war." I felt the shock in Carlisle's mind and covered my face with my hands. "I'm so sorry I'm doing this to you…to us. It's not intentional."

His thoughts softened and he came around the desk, knelt and put his hand on my shoulder. "If it's the same, then I know it's not intentional. You still intend to take her to the meadow on Saturday?"

"I know I probably shouldn't, but I'm not sure that I have a choice. I'm sorry I don't have your control, but I have to be with her."

"I didn't exhibit much control once I knew Esme felt the same as I did," he said smiling. I looked up.

"But Esme was already one of us then. How can Bella be my mate if she's still human? I don't understand it, Carlisle! I just know if feels the same."

He sighed. "You listed all the justifications I had for changing her. And there were others. I wanted to understand how that happy child I'd treated years earlier had come to such a tragic end. But if you knew my thoughts as well as you seem to, you know those were not the reasons I changed her, just the rationalizations." I looked at him, reading his thoughts, remembering his thoughts from all those years ago.

"You just felt a compulsion."

"Yes. I didn't understand it. I didn't know why it was important to me that I save this one woman, of all the hundreds of women I'd seen die in hospitals over my many years. Why did I want to save her, as I'd saved you? I just knew I had to try. Some part of me recognized her as my mate, even when she was human and half dead. And she told me later she'd recognized me too, all those years earlier. This is not so unbelievable, what you are feeling for Bella…complicated, though, as you point out." He looked away, thinking of the possibility of taking the family away before there was a war.

"I don't think I can leave," I said softly. "I'm sorry."

He looked back into my face and smiled gently. "Edward, you never have to apologize to me for being who you are. You've done remarkably well, considering everything."

"But the Quileutes…"

"It might yet come to nothing. Billy Black may choose not to say anything. If he does tell Charlie, he might not be believed. I work with Charlie sometimes, and he seems like a very practical man. Even if they break the treaty, we can choose not to go to war. You've done nothing wrong, Edward."

"Yet," I said, covering my face again.

"If you survived that first day, I think you are capable of anything. You're taking precautions?"

"Anything I can think of. I'm keeping her scent with me all the time, so that sudden proximity won't catch me off guard. I've been asking her questions, trying to understand her, trying to get all the information I can to see her as a whole person, and keep the monster at bay. I've been practicing touching her safely, in public. I'm going to ask Alice to hunt with me tomorrow afternoon, even though I just fed. I think it will be enough, Carlisle, but the stakes are so high." He nodded, approving my measures.

"You just worry about keeping Bella safe; the rest we'll deal with together."

I looked into his face. "Thank you, Carlisle."

He smiled, "You were generous with me, back then, if you'll remember." I nodded, smiling too.

I went to my room and got my iPod. Then I went downstairs to the rows of computers and downloaded all the music she'd mentioned today—as well as Mrs. Goff's suggestions—and all the books and poems. I looked up a picture of ocotillo, and laughed aloud as I could finally appreciate her joke. Alice looked at me from across the room, and I just shook my head. It was getting late now, and I wanted to get going…Bella should be asleep soon.

_We'll leave after lunch, _Alice thought, not bothering to wait for me to ask her to hunt.

"Sounds good," I said on my way out the door.

As I crept into Bella's window, I immediately noticed the difference in her compared with the night before. She was completely peaceful. Perhaps the meeting with the Blacks had been uneventful…it seemed nothing was troubling her subconscious tonight. I felt the burn in my throat. After watching her for several minutes, I decided to take this time to get my jacket permeated with her scent again. I draped it over her gently; she sighed and rolled over, and continued sleeping peacefully. I retreated to the rocking chair and put in my ear buds. We'd all tinkered with our music players. If I set the volume to its lowest setting, I could still hear her breathing clearly, as well as the music. I started with the Puccini. I knew the opera, and just remembered it being sad. I went directly to the aria she mentioned, and listened to it carefully. My Italian was quite good; I had no trouble understanding the stilted singing. The melody was truly beautiful, and the words described a kiss…the madness surrounding a first kiss. Even with her across the room, I could feel the buzzing electricity flowing through my body. I'd dismissed this opera before, because I'd never been touched by the desire for a kiss or romance before; I'd only known the irony of what an unlikely hero I would be in such a story. But now the song felt powerful, beautiful, and tragic. I spent the next several hours like that, listening to her breath and her music: Longing Town, Your House…songs that might have felt trite to me before, now seemed eloquent and intimate. I read her poems: _Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond_…I felt like every word, every note brought me closer to her. Finally I got to the Stevie Wonder album. I went immediately to the first song she'd listed: As. While I listened, I imagined her at eight years old, dancing around the room with her mother, joy lighting her face. I sat back in the chair with my eyes closed and smiled.

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is the final chapter of my little Bridge between Stephenie Meyer's Midnight Sun (published on her website) and Meadow of the Midnight Sun, a well written and true-to-canon fanfiction piece by HeartOfDarkess, which does a very nice job finishing the book. This bridge serves as a few "missing chapters" to link the two works. The intent is to be true to canon.**

**My first chapter starts directly after the end of Stephenie Meyer's last draft chapter. There is no introduction; I just start right up. If it's been a while since you read Midnight Sun, you might want to start there.**

**Also, if you read the first chapter when I first posted it (a looong time ago, it seems now), you might want to reread it. I wrote the original version when I was away from home, and therefore, my copy of Twilight. When I came home and got ready to write the next chapter, I discovered canon issues that I've since fixed.**

**Thanks to HeartOfDarkess for her encouragement to write this, and for serving as an unofficial beta. You are always so generous with me, and I am very grateful for the help and camaraderie.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

EPOV

It had been a _very_ pleasant evening, listening to Bella's gentle, steady breathing, and learning about her through her favorite music and poems. Some of it I'd already known and liked, but I listened to it with new appreciation, knowing that it had drawn her in as well. Some of it I hadn't known, but I liked it; I could appreciate the beauty and longing in the songs. I wondered…hoped that the longing was directed at me. And I could appreciate it all. Appreciate it because it was important to her. I'd never experienced that before. It was…strangely gratifying. But then it hit me as I drove back to her house before school, much of the music, and all of the poems, had been about love. Her heart must have been touched before. My smile faded with the thought. Of course, it was _ridiculous_ to feel jealous of some imagined fifteen- or sixteen-year old in Phoenix that she never mentioned—that she knew before we'd even met—but that didn't stop me. I sighed. I'd have to ask her today. I didn't really want to know, but it would be far preferable to imagining…then again, the one time she'd stirred during the night, she had reached toward me and whispered my name, sighing gently. Combined with her music, it had left with a heady feeling.

I heard Charlie's cruiser leaving when I was but two blocks from Bella's house, and so I drove straight up to her driveway, rolling down the windows, turning off the engine, and adjusting the volume on the Miles Davis CD I'd placed in the stereo before leaving the house. I didn't know if she was familiar with this one, but I felt certain she would like it; and it was one of my favorites. I smiled at my new confidence in understanding her tastes.

She came out of the house almost immediately, walking straight up to the car and letting herself in. There was no shy pause, and her assurance made me grin happily, forgetting all about the mysterious Phoenix boys.

"How did you sleep?" I asked. Her eyes glazed slightly.

"Fine, how was your night?"

"Pleasant," I said, smiling as I thought again of her music, 'somewhere I have never traveled', and looked at her small hands. I started toward school.

"Can I ask what you did?"

"No, today is still _mine_," I said enthusiastically. She rolled her eyes.

"My favorite color is still brown."

I laughed. "Tell me about Renée."

"I've already told you about her…what more do you want to know?"

"What are her hobbies, other than dancing around the living room?"

"Ah…Renée and her hobbies…she's had so many of them…" I raised an eyebrow, seeking clarification. "My mother goes through phases with her hobbies…she gets excited about something, buys whatever equipment she needs, takes a class or two, realizes it's hard, and then packs all that stuff up in a box, puts it in the garage, and gets excited about something else. So there's a box for stained glass window making, one for fused glass, one for acrylic painting, one for pottery, one for macramé…"

"Macramé?" I pulled into the school and parked the car.

"Seriously, I have two belts. Also knitting…that red scarf that I was wearing in January…one of hers. Lately though, she's a baseball wife, and it apparently takes a lot of time." We got out and I started walking her to her English class.

"That scarf had a…unique…shape," I added.

"That's Renée," she said with a grin.

"The way you describe her…she doesn't seem like an opera buff."

She smirked. "If you had to describe Renée with a single word, eclectic wouldn't be a bad one, though others come to mind when I'm feeling less charitable. The point is she'll try anything once, and is fairly easygoing, so she finds things she likes all the time. When I was growing up she played opera, classical, jazz, soul, rock, disco, bluegrass, folk… pretty much everything. Some of it she'd only play once, and it would move to the bottom of the pile. But when I started having a preference, I had a wide selection to choose from." I nodded…it was a haphazard approach to music education, but much better than simply listening to top forty radio.

"So she really likes music?" I asked. She thought about that for a moment.

"Well, she doesn't know anything about it. She doesn't have a box in the garage with an instrument and sheet music. It's more like, she needs a soundtrack for her life. What she listens to is tied to what she's reading and watching on TV. So if she's reading Austen, it's Mozart…Shakespeare, it's opera…while she was reading the Raj Quartet we listened to sitar music for months…I still have some in my collection somewhere. If she's trying to prove how young she is, she'll listen to what I bring home, like Zero 7 or Elbow, or the Doves."

We were outside her class now, people rushing past us, and she turned to me expectantly. I tucked a bit of stray hair behind her ear and asked, "Are you like that too, with what you read?"

She thought a moment and chuckled. "Maybe a little. When I saw E. M. Forster on the reading list for English, I wondered if I'd be pulling out the sitar music or the Bartok. But on the other hand, I'm happy reading Austen to Coltrane, so…" she shrugged. I smiled down at her, studying all her features, memorizing them again before I had to leave.

"I'd better go," I said, as I noticed the halls clearing in the corner of my eye.

"Yeah, me too." She didn't move; she was just as resistant to parting as I was. I groaned inwardly and finally turned away from her with a little wave.

"Edward!" I turned and saw her flash me an amazing smile as she stood outside the open English door. "I'll see you after Spanish." She went in and I turned again, grinning like an idiot…well, like a teenager. I jogged to my calculus class, just taking my seat before the bell rang.

My classes dragged, just as they had yesterday. It was a shame, in some ways. Calculus wasn't an inherently boring subject, but the way that high school teachers invariably taught it—and I'd taken it dozens of times—always left the students wondering why they should care. Government was almost as bad. English was more entertaining, just because I knew Bella liked the book we were reading, and so I was approaching it with a new perspective, something that hadn't happened since the thirties.

Alice and I were partnered in Gym again. She twirled her racquet between serves, and silently recited 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead' in Japanese. This would have been hysterical, if I weren't so annoyed with the fact that she was hiding something from me. As it was, the tennis scene had me choking back laughter, trying to cover it with coughing fits. It's funny enough in English, but somehow, in Japanese, in Alice's soprano mental voice, with the tennis swings in the play synchronized to Alice's swings in the badminton game… I could barely control my mirth. The other team thought I was laughing at them, which just made Alice's eyes gleam more.

I tried to drown her out by checking in with Bella, who was in Spanish class. Jessica was regaling her with plans for the dance, wanting Bella's approval for every detail. Bella was tolerating it, though without a plan to go herself, the conversation was one-sided…which suited Jessica just fine, I noted, smirking. Well, I'd rescue Bella soon enough.

I was waiting for her when they left the Spanish classroom. Jessica just rolled her eyes and walked away; Bella walked straight to me again, her smile and heat warming me through. Her new confidence was thrilling me.

"Hi," she said, her eyes drinking in the sight of me. I knew the feeling.

"Hi," I answered, touching the small of her back to gently turn her in the direction of the cafeteria. Thrilling. "Yesterday you mentioned that you didn't really know Charlie's parents, just their garden. Did you know your other grandparents? Are they still alive?"

"No, not anymore. I knew Gran Marie, Renée's mom. She died about 6 years ago, but we were pretty close. She was great…sort of a free spirit like Renée, but more grounded…more reliable, easier to relax around. I really miss her sometimes."

"What about friends in Phoenix? You never talk about anyone from there…" I led her into the lunch line.

"My best friends through most of elementary school and junior high were Kari and Grace, but when we got to high school we all sort of went different ways. Kari's really artistic, and started hanging out with all the artsy kids, and Grace just sort of went bad…had a boyfriend that got her involved in drugs, and she stopped showing up to school. I tried to help her for a while, but she didn't want any help." She sighed. There was more to that story, I imagined. "Once we were in high school, I don't know, I was busy with school and work. I had friends I hung out with at lunch, but we didn't do a lot after school. Kari and I talked on the phone sometimes, but she was pretty involved with her new friends. Weekends were really for Renée…she and I didn't have time to hang out during the week. None of those friendships were the kind that really survives a long separation. Kari's written once. She likes Kwakiutl art, and wants me to tell her if I've seen any. I think there's some at Seattle Art Museum. I was going to try to go some weekend soon and see if I could get her a book or something." We sat at our table and she started picking at her bagel.

"So she's the only one you're in touch with?" I was stalling. I didn't want to get to my next question. I didn't really want to know what had inspired her love of all those poems. Or rather, whom…

"Yeah, Kari's great, but we're both really lazy correspondents…I don't have a lot of hope for the friendship, but I'm trying." She smiled a little sheepishly. I took a deep breath.

"What about boys? You must have dated in Phoenix."

"No." She looked startled at the question.

"What, not at all?" I asked incredulously. She shook head. "So you never met anyone you wanted?" It was starting to dawn on me just how much responsibility I had in her life. If she had never felt love before, and I made any sort of mistake, I'd steal that potential from her forever.

"Not in Phoenix," she said. She took another bite of bagel as I sat, stunned.

She meant me. I was her first. I was her first, and I could _so_ _easily_ destroy her. The idea paralyzed me. I had thought that learning of her first loves would chill me, but this was much, much harder. There was _no way_ I could be worthy of her. How was I even to get through the day tomorrow? I felt the weight of it crush me. I would just _have_ to be strong enough. There was no option. Which brought me to my preparations…

"I should have let you drive yourself today," I said, wishing, as always, that I had more time with her. I was very nearly out of time…in so many ways.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch." I looked up at her face and saw her disappointment.

"Oh…that's okay, it's not that far of a walk."

What kind of gentleman did she take me for? "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"I don't have my key with me…I really don't mind walking." Silly Bella. As if the lack of a key would be a problem…

"Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition—unless you're worried someone might steal it." _The insurance agency would never believe_ _that! _I thought chuckling…they probably didn't even bother with insurance.

"All right," she said. I'd insulted her with my quip about her truck, and she didn't think I could manage to find a simple key. I fought back a grin. She really had no idea what skills I had at my disposal, especially with Alice around.

"So where are you going?"

"Hunting," I answered grimly, the weight of what I was planning crushing me again. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." I wished I'd asked her to wear my jacket during lunch, to recharge that as well. But it was too late. So very nearly too late. "You can always cancel, you know," I suggested, not knowing if I could let her. I wasn't strong enough to break the date, but maybe she could, and maybe I could let her. It would likely only postpone the inevitable, but perhaps I'd think of other precautions with more time…

She looked away. Why? Was she bracing herself? No. Avoiding my eyes. Avoiding being dazzled. "No." She looked back up at me. "I can't." There it was. We were both hurtling forward…two lone passengers on the same train, just praying that it wouldn't crash.

"Perhaps you're right," I finally said, visually grasping at her features again…willing myself to be strong enough for her.

"What time will I see you tomorrow?" she asked.

"That depends…it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?"

"No," she said quickly. I repressed a smile. She didn't like the idea of being separated for any longer than necessary either.

"The same time as usual, then," I assured. "Will Charlie be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." She looked very smug at the thought.

"And if you don't come home, what will he think?" After he calls the FBI and National Guard, that is…

"I have no idea. He knows I've been meaning to do laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."

How could she treat this situation so lightly? I must have been scowling at the thought, because she scowled back: a kitten-fury scowl.

"What are you hunting tonight?" she asked. How _did _she speak of it so lightly? As though I'm not a monster…

"Whatever we find in the park. We're not going far," I answered quietly. I never understood her.

"Why are you going with Alice?"

"Alice is the most… supportive." For lack of a better word…irritating little pixie.

"And the others? What are they?" she asked.

I scanned their thoughts. "Incredulous, for the most part."

She looked over at them, behind me, and her face fell. "They don't like me."

"That's not it," I tried to reassure her. Well, with _one_ exception. I sighed. "They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

"Neither do I, for that matter."

We'd been over this. How was I ever going to convince her? "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me." She looked skeptical, making me smile. If only she knew what every human male in the room was thinking. "Having the advantages I do," I said, touching my forehead lightly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise." She looked away, annoyed. _Excellent. Way to woo the girl, Edward, you just made her feel like a curiosity_, I thought to myself. Her eyes fell on my family. I watched her, and struggled to clarify my feelings.

"That part is easy enough to explain. But there's more… and it's not so easy to put into words…" How could I describe these strange longings, which I didn't even understand myself? How could I express my surprising fascination with her lips, and the slope of her shoulder, and the curve right above—and below—the small of her back? How could I describe how my center trembled and coiled if she sat near me too long, or looked into my eyes, or touched my hand?

Suddenly Rosalie's thoughts intruded my mind. _I can't believe he's risking a war with the wolves for this human. If I lose Emmett over this pasty-faced child, the Volturi will be the least of his worries! _I could see Bella through her eyes, see how their eyes were locked, and how Bella's face grew frightened. Through Rosalie's eyes I saw the back of my own shoulders stiffen as a low hiss escaped my lips. Rosalie noticed too, and she turned away, now looking at Emmett, whose expression was confused, and then reassuring. I focused back on Bella.

"I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see…it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…"

"If?"

"If this ends...badly." I covered my face with my hands, too ashamed to face her. I felt her movement, her indecision about how to comfort me. But it was too late for that, too. I was out of time.

"And you have to leave now?"

"Yes," I said looking at her again. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left—I don't think I could take anymore." I felt Alice suddenly standing behind me, her stillness belying the excitement she felt.

_You can't get out of it this time, Edward. _

"Alice," I said in greeting, never taking my eyes off Bella.

"Edward," she answered, for Bella's sake. _Now introduce me to my best friend! _

"Alice, Bella — Bella, Alice." I moved my hand in introduction, smiling at Alice's impatience.

"Hello, Bella. It's nice to finally meet you," Alice said sweetly to Bella, adding to me, _I can't believe how long you made me wait, silly brother. Really Edward, was that _so_ difficult?_

"Hi, Alice," Bella said shyly.

"Are you ready?" Alice asked me.

"Nearly. I'll meet you in the car." I quickly slipped her my keys. _Go away, Alice. I get a few more minutes._ I hoped she'd see my decision to say it. I felt her move toward the door, and watched Bella's eyes follow her with an odd expression on her face. Wistfulness?

"Should I say 'have fun', or is that the wrong sentiment?" she asked, impressing me again with the way she took all of this in stride.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything," I said, smiling.

"Have fun, then." She was trying to sound happy for me. As if I could be happy that I had to leave her…silly Bella.

"I'll try. And you try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks — what a challenge," she quipped.

"For you it _is _a challenge." My thoughts were turning serious again. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe. I'll do laundry tonight — that ought to be fraught with peril."

"Don't fall in," I reminded her.

"I'll do my best."

I stood. It was time to go. She stood as well, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow." She looked depressed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" How differently we perceived time. I had no idea if I had enough of it anymore; enough time to change myself, and make myself safe for her. She nodded.

"I'll be there in the morning," I promised, realizing sadly that for the first night in a long time, I would probably not see her before then. I wished again that I'd asked her to wear my jacket during lunch. I smiled at her and reached across the table to stroke her delicate cheekbone, in what had become our customary goodbye. Then I left before I could change my mind.

I walked out to the car where Alice was sitting in the passenger seat, putting in a new CD.

"Alice, what have I told you about messing with my music? What's wrong with Miles Davis?"

"Nothing's wrong with Miles, I just feel more in the mood for Radiohead. Be nice to me, Edward, or I won't tell you where you're going to find her key."

I started the car and headed for Bella's house. "I'd still find it," I challenged.

"Yes, but it will take a lot longer, make more of a mess, and get us hunting later, which will mean you won't like your prey as much." She shot me an amused look.

Irritating little pixie. "Fine, Radiohead it is." I mock glared at her. I liked Kid A anyway. We pulled up to the house, and I let us in using the key under the eave. "So where am I going to find it? And by the way, what _was_ that about in Gym today? What are you hiding?" She made her eyes wide with innocence and then played me part of a vision: I was going through a pair of jeans on the laundry room floor. I went in and retrieved the key.

"I was just in the mood for a little Tom Stoppard, and haven't used my Japanese in a while. We need to settle somewhere with a larger Asian population next time, so I have people to practice with."

"I'm sure Carlisle will take it under consideration…just make him a list of all your requirements: languages, mall size, types of large game, weather…" I walked back into the kitchen and took a piece of paper off the message board, quickly wrote two words on it.

"Don't forget cultural pursuits. I haven't seen a play or been to a museum since we left Connecticut. Not that I'm complaining. Forks has its charms." She gave me a sly grin. I glared at her. "Oh, loosen up, Edward."

"Loosen up? Do you hear yourself? You were the one all freaked out that I was still taking her to the meadow! And speaking of museums, do you know if SAM has Kwakiutl art?"

"I think so. Why, are you going native?"

"Bella has a friend interested in it."

"I think there's an even better display in Victoria. Does she have a passport?"

"I don't know. I'll ask her tomorrow. You ready?" She danced over to the door and let herself out. I threw her my keys without telling her, and she did a little twirl and caught them perfectly, making me smile. _You weren't even trying to trick me._

"No," I said. "I just like seeing your little gift in action. Follow me back to school?"

_Sure._

I drove the truck back and placed it in my parking spot, carefully set my note on the seat, and then got into my car; Alice had already moved to the passenger side. We headed to the house to drop off our school things. "You should get changed now," Alice said.

"Before we hunt? What if I get dirty?"

She rolled her eyes. "When do you ever get dirty hunting?"

"Okay, okay. Give me a minute." I went to my room and changed, wondering why I was spending time doing this now, when Alice was concerned with getting us out of Bella's house early. I was downstairs within a minute. "Okay, let's go. What?" I asked, catching her look as she eyed my clothes. She was suppressing a giggle. I looked down at myself. She had bought these clothes for me, and I failed to see what was humorous. "What?" I looked into her mind to see if I'd missed a vision, but if I had, it was too late…she was thinking of prey now.

"Nothing." She pointed northeast, "Elk, or," pointing southeast, "deer?"

"I thought you said I'd like the prey if we hurried at Bella's."

"I said you'd like it _less_ if we waited."

"Edward?" Esme was coming down the stairs. "Am I going to see you again before you go to the meadow with Bella?"

I looked at Alice, assuming that she wouldn't have had me change if I were coming back. She shook her head.

"Doesn't look like it," I answered.

"Can I have a moment, then?"

"I'll be outside," Alice said.

I turned to Esme and she finished coming down the stairs, walked over to me, and cupped my cheek in her hand, resting her other hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were full of love and concern. I started to feel all the tension that had built up over the last several days begin to crumble away. I'd constructed walls to try to keep myself strong for what I was about to do, but with a simple touch, Esme brought them down, leaving me with only my raw fear and agitation. I felt my expression change; it had been hardened…guarded…but now I felt pain wash over it. She drew me into a fierce embrace, closing her arms over my shoulders, and my arms wrapped around her as I squeezed my eyes shut against my fear.

"I'm so scared, Esme."

"I know. I'm sorry. I wish there were more I could do."

"This helps, actually." She smiled.

"You know I love you unconditionally…we both do." She and Carlisle, she meant. She was telling me that they would still love me if I failed. I didn't want to hear that.

"Esme…"

"Shhh. Let me finish. You know I love you unconditionally. But there's something else I want to make sure you know, before you go." I nodded, waiting. "I believe you can do this, Edward. If it had been any of the others, I would have talked to Carlisle about leaving, and dealt with Rose myself. But I have faith in you. You can do this. Do you remember when you came back to us, after your sojourn to New York?"

I remembered. She'd held me like this then as well. I nodded. "I was so proud of you for coming back, for being strong enough to change your mind, stand by your new decision, and face Carlisle like a man. I know that you think you aren't as strong as Carlisle, but you're wrong." She pulled back so she could look at my face. I knew my expression must have shown all my fear, all my self-doubt; Esme brushed my hair from my face. "You have every bit as much control, every bit as much goodness. You are just as strong. I mean it, Edward," she said as I looked away in disbelief. She touched my chin to turn my face to her again. "It's true. I've known you longer than anyone on this earth, save one, and in some ways I think I understand you better than he does. You should trust me; I know what I'm talking about." I smiled. "You are capable of anything. And you love this girl. You love Bella." I nodded. "You _won't_ hurt her. I know you won't. And she loves you; and Edward, I can't _wait_ to meet her." Her smile warmed me. It was hard not be infected by her confidence.

I pulled her into another hug. "Thank you, Mom," I whispered.

_You are the brightest star in my sky, Edward. My brightest star. _I hugged her tighter.

She pulled away, looking into my face again. "Now, go get fed, and have a wonderful day tomorrow. I want to hear all about it when you get back." She kissed my forehead and released me.

"But if I fail…" she put her hand on my lips, not letting me finish.

"Edward, we're all here to support you, before and after, no matter what happens. But it won't come to that. You're stronger than you think you are. You _won't_ hurt her_._" She looked at me with pride and confidence and love. Then she kissed my forehead again and went upstairs. I joined Alice outside.

"Pep talk over?" I smiled and nodded. "Feeling better?'

"For the moment. Any prey left?"

"Oh, I think we'll be able to rustle something up. I vote for northeast."

"Ladies first," I said, motioning for her to start. We ran for quite a while, Alice leading us higher and higher into the park, until we descended into a narrow valley. She stopped about a half mile from a stream where we could see a small herd of elk. I started to move towards them…

_Edward, wait. _I stopped, still crouching, and watched the scene below. The moon rose over the ridgeline. Nothing was changing, and I was growing impatient, when suddenly the breeze shifted slightly, and I caught another scent: the scent of a predator. I looked at Alice and she grinned at me.

_See? Patience is a virtue._ I rolled my eyes. She continued, _That one is yours; I'll take one of the elk._

"Thanks," I mouthed. I headed toward it, keeping downwind. The cat was distracted, stalking its own prey. It was too easy, but I didn't care. I'm not Emmett; I don't hunt for the challenge. Thinking of Emmett reminded me of his comment at the last family meeting. When I finished draining the cat, I ran down to where Alice was finishing up with an elk. The rest of the herd had moved down the valley. I sat on a boulder and waited for her. I felt lucky to have Alice for a sister. She really wanted me to succeed, and I felt grateful to her. Between Carlisle and Esme's confidence, and Alice's support, I was actually starting to feel slightly optimistic about tomorrow. She stood and wiped her mouth.

"Alice?"

"Hmm?"

"Did Emmett and Jasper really bet on the outcome of tomorrow?"

"No, Jasper's far too much of a gentleman to bet on something so important to you. _I_, on the other hand, have no qualms about taking my brother's money." She grinned.

"You bet that I'd bring her back?"

"Of course!"

"May I ask what odds you gave him?"

"No. But it doesn't matter, because I'm not going to lose."

"You weren't so sure two nights ago…"

"Well, I'm still not sure, but I'm coming around to your way of thinking. And a few things have solidified…"

"And you're not going to explain that…"

"Nope." She grinned again. Then I caught part of a hazy vision. There was a tall tree, and I was standing under it with Bella. Then it was gone.

"What was that?"

"Oh. Oh, I have to go, Edward. Jasper needs to hunt. I didn't realize he needed to hunt, too."

"Alice, what was I doing to Bella?"

She looked surprised. "Nothing. You were just standing there."

"Are you sure?"

"Edward, my concern about tomorrow is with the things you don't decide… a sudden reaction. If I'd actually seen you do anything to her—anything bad—I would have told you, and talked you out of this.

"So nothing's changed since the meeting?"

"Nothing to do with you. I need to go. Are you going to be okay? Are you going to Bella's tonight?"

I looked up at the moon. Part of me wanted to go to Bella's room; I could get accustomed to her scent again. Normally, the cat would be plenty. But it seemed like a better idea to hunt some more; I needed to make sure I had absolutely no thirst tomorrow.

"No, I think I'll go in search of the elk, and maybe go to the meadow. I haven't been there at night for a long time…it will probably relax me. I'll be fine. Thanks, Alice. Thanks for everything."

She came up to me and gave me a hug.

"Try not to get all angsty. Listen to Esme. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will?" I asked as she disappeared, her tinkling laugh fading in the distance. Annoying, loveable little pixie. I took a deep breath, and then headed for the meadow. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to get there.

**A/N So this concludes my Bridge, and now I'll send you off to Heart of Darkess' wonderfully written Meadow of the Midnight Sun:** **.net/s/5685996/1/Meadow_of_the_Midnight_Sun. Remember that her story was written first and is stand-alone; it won't flow quite like a "next chapter" from mine. She spends some time in the beginning setting up her story, but then the chapters flow beautifully all the way to the end of the book. **

**Thanks again for reading my little Bridge with the "missing chapters." I'd love to hear what you think. And I hope to see you soon over at my other story, Prelude in C.**


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